Til Death Do Us Part
by EoEDaD
Summary: What happens after death? --Because we all hope that hell would have better sense than to take him in the first place.
1. Chapter 1

I'm very leery of posting multi-chapter stories up here, especially when I'm not certain about where I'm going with them, but I kind of like this and am (fairly) confident that I'm not going to drop it. Heheh.

And there will be much update today, because I haven't updated this account since... dear god, NOVEMBER. . Blech.

* * *

_What happens after death?_

No one knows, of course. That's pretty much the point. You can't know what happens because the very fact of death means that there's no one you can ask. So maybe when you die, you will be reincarnated again. Or perhaps you are sent to one of countless afterlives—Heaven, Hell, Valhalla, Hades, Aaru, Jannah. Or maybe you return to the earth in some mystic sense, melt back into an all-encompassing, pantheistic sort of world consciousness.

Or maybe you simply—end, like a lightbulb that has burnt out. No moment of revelation, no understanding or closure, just life and then its finish. Oblivion. The thought is unattractive, sure, but still possible. Probable, even.

But that's all that they are, possibilities. You can't _know._ It's death, after all. Anything could happen after death. For all you know…

Well…

_For all you know, it goes something like this:_

"You… never say what I expect…"

Seishiro could hear Subaru talking to him through the pain and darkness, but he couldn't quite make out the words. A shame, that. His Subaru-kun never reacted quite how he expected him to—it would have been interesting to see how he took this. Seishiro felt a brief constricting sensation in his chest, and it took him a moment to identify it as regret that he wouldn't be around to watch Subaru as the Sakurazukamori.

A Sakurazukamori feeling regret. How odd.

His eyes began to fall shut, simply too heavy to keep open. The pain started to spread and then fade, replaced by a sort of numb, heavy, weary feeling that went deeper far than bone and muscle. Seishiro let his eyes close and his mind drift away—it would have happened anyways, and he always likes to feel that he is the one in control.

All things considered, the end was rather disappointing. Seishiro didn't even realize he was dead until he noticed that he could open his eyes again. He was standing on (and partially in) his own body, and as he looked down, he noticed that he was also partially transparent. Experimentally, he waved a hand in front of Subaru's stricken face. Subaru didn't see him, so he probably wasn't a ghost. Seishiro concentrated. No, he couldn't move things around, either.

There was a loud cracking noise, and Seishiro looked up idly as the steel girders that held up the bridge began to fall. Subaru hadn't moved, and Seishiro raised a no-longer-corporeal eyebrow. It would be… undignified for the new Sakurazukamori to be killed by something as commonplace as a collapsing bridge. Really, he had expected better of Subaru-kun. He tried poking the boy (even now, he still thought of him a little wounded boy), and, when that failed, shaking him. His hands passed right through Subaru's flesh.

That was going to be annoying. Was this Hell? He looked around again, absently noticing the Seals' leader running down and pulling Subaru off the bridge. Really, you would think that an all-powerful deity would be able to come up with something a little more impressive.

And then, as if in answer to his silent criticism, everything went black and silent.

Seishiro was an assassin. He knew the darkness like he knew power—instinctively, something that had always come to him so naturally he never even really had to think about it. He was a creature of the darkness. He reveled in it.

But not this darkness.

Normal darkness is only the absence of visible light—it is not an actual entity, in and of itself. Science tells us that there isn't even any such thing as true darkness, because there is always some form of electromagnetic radiation being emitted from matter.

_This_ darkness had apparently missed the memo. The darkness that surrounded Seishiro now had as little do with normal, human darkness as antimatter did with empty space. This darkness had a _purpose,_ a mindless devouring insatiable purpose, and that purpose tugged and pulled and writhed underneath Seishiro's skin. He could just barely make out a faint, tortured keening in the distance, almost inaudible and yet horrible, like a million people all screaming together in a single, shared agony. Sharp stinging bursts of pain blossomed across his chest, and he swore under his breath as he realized that he couldn't move his arms or legs.

The pain stopped at the sound of his voice, and the darkness-that-was-not-darkness began to shift and wrap around him, the basic purpose now put aside in favor of curiosity. The sound grew muted, as though the cocoon of night was intentionally blocking it out. Seishiro could feel it withdrawing from inside him and then undulating against his skin, cool and soft and dry, and it almost felt familiar. He slowly pushed his right arm in front of him, feeling the darkness slowly give way. It was almost like… like…

The pulse of the darkness shifted from welcoming to alarmed, and Seishiro got a brief, confused impression that he was being thrown through the air—except there _wasn't_ any air—before he found himself landing face-first on a wooden floor.

He lay there for a moment, working through the whiplash and listening intently for any noises. There was nothing but the sound of his own breathing. Once his eyes had more or less adjusted to the light, he rolled carefully to his feet and opened them.

He was standing in the center of an airy, clean, well-lit kitchen. The last, blinding rays of sunset streamed in through a small window over the sink. The appliances were black and modern, with sleek lines that vaguely reminded him of the ones in his apartment. There was a blue cutting board on the granite countertop, with a knife and a half-chopped apple beside it. The sounds of downtown Tokyo at nightfall drifted up through the window to create a soft, familiar background cacophony.

Seishiro's brow furrowed. He'd heard of reincarnation, of course, but weren't you supposed to start at the beginning?

"Oh!"

Seishiro had long since given up on being surprised, but that almost did it. Slowly, he blinked and turned to face the doorway.

Two bright green eyes stared back at him. "Um…"

Seishiro met Subaru's eyes as calmly as he could manage—which, given the circumstances, was actually quite calm. Every career had its side benefits, after all.

"Ah…" Subaru said hesitantly, eyeing him, and he looked _wrong._ Maybe it wasn't something that he would have noticed if he hadn't spent nine years occasionally stalking Subaru (not that he would have phrased it that way), but he had, and something was very not right here. Subaru looked exactly as he had when he had lost the bet, maybe a little older, a little wearier, but this was more than superficialities.

"Um…" Subaru said. "Do I… know you?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Do I… know you?"

Seishiro froze. That was it. Subaru looked now as though he knew nothing of blood, or death, or pain beyond the everyday pain that was human life. The words seemed to echo into infinity. _Do I know you? Do I know you?_

Do_ I know you?_

For a moment, Seishiro felt that he was back in the darkness and that it was ripping open the soul he hadn't known he possessed anymore, brutally stripping away layers of ice and blood and coldness to find—

Subaru, of course, but Subaru as he could never be in real life, Subaru who was Seishiro's and nothing else, Subaru wearing Seishiro's own want and desire and lust like a halo, like a second skin. Want that went deeper than physical or even emotional, desire as the purest and rawest of primordial instincts, the original craving sin of lust. The heat of them seared Seishiro, raised blisters on his skin—

And then the moment passed, and he was back, unscathed, in the strange kitchen looking at Subaru as the boy's eyes went dull and empty.

"Seishiro-san," he said to no one, as though memorizing a lesson in class. "Seishiro-san, Sakurazukamori, assassin, killer, master, love…" He trailed off, his face expressionless and robotic. Seishiro took the opportunity to look him over. Subaru looked about eighteen, a little older than he had been when he lost (and won, in a sense) the bet. His hair was just enough shorter than it had been when he was sixteen to be noticeable, and there was a plain silver chain wrapped twice around his neck. He was wearing a plain cotton tee shirt and unadorned black jeans that would probably have given his sister a heart attack if she had seen him in them. Briefly, Seishiro wondered if Hokuto was still alive in this other world, and if she wasn't, what had caused her death. Or who.

Subaru came out of his trance and blinked, focusing on Seishiro again. "Oh. Forgive me, Seishiro-san, I didn't recognize you."

Seishiro was more than a little puzzled (and mildly irked that such a thing was even possible), but he decided to play along. "It's quite all right, Subaru-kun," he said, effortlessly slipping on a mask of worry. Since Subaru hadn't tried to attack him yet, he assumed he was still a veterinarian—or, given what Subaru had said (Sakurazukamori? Assassin? Killer? Rather harsh words for his Subaru-kun), maybe not. He'd find out eventually. "Have you not been eating or sleeping properly? I would hate to see you make yourself ill."

"I was preparing lunch before you—arrived," Subaru said, gesturing to the apple on the counter and looking as though he wasn't completely sure what word to apply to Seishiro's entrance. Seishiro was almost glad that Subaru hadn't been there to see him land on his face. "Shall I continue?"

Seishiro's attention was diverted from speculations on the nature of the question, and its implication that he was in charge of what Subaru did, when he noticed a freshly applied bandage on Subaru's finger, probably the reason Subaru had left the food unattended. Ignoring the question, he asked, "You cut yourself?" He took Subaru's hand, infusing his voice with just the right note of concern. "Well, we can't have that, now can we? Here, I'll get this for you. You go sit down and relax." He ran a caressing hand up to the crease of Subaru's elbow, noticed with some surprise the lack of tension, and then released him.

Subaru looked up at him with a flash of disquietude, but bowed his head in acquiescence. "If that's what you want."

Seishiro's eyebrow arched imperceptibly as Subaru left the room, presumably to find a sofa or something. He watched him go, weighing his choices, and then shrugged and walked over to pick up the knife. He didn't mind chopping an apple, really; he had always found culinary work to be rather pleasant, if tedious. It was just that this wasn't how it was supposed to go. He had been expecting the boy to protest that he was—well, he assumed he was a guest and that this was Subaru's apartment, though if so, this was one of the oddest afterlives he had ever heard of. He didn't really know what to make of any of this, including the episode with the darkness and Subaru's zombie impersonation, thought he was strongly beginning to suspect that perhaps he _hadn't_ died and this entire interlude was just a very strange, possibly painkiller-influenced hallucination.

Someone else might have cared. Seishiro found the thought vaguely interesting.

He absently reached down to put one of the apple slices had had just cut into his mouth; it tasted oddly metallic.

Subaru's blood was still on the blade of the knife.

Seishiro regarded it for a moment, then went to go rinse the knife in the sink. There would be time enough for playing with his prey—assuming he was worth playing with, after all. Before he thrust the knife under the water, though, he ran a finger up the edge thoughtfully. It nicked his skin, and he automatically put his fingertip in his mouth, mingling his blood and Subaru's on his tongue.

It didn't taste like much.

"Subaru-kun?" he called as he carried the plate into the next room. There was a moment of vertigo as he stepped through the doorway, but it passed almost instantly and he was standing in what almost looked like a library. The walls were a neutral cream color, almost hidden by the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined the room.

Subaru was curled up in a black leather armchair, hugging a white pillow to his chest. His eyes focused on Seishiro the instant he stepped into the room. "Yes, Seishiro-san?" he asked quietly. Meekly.

Seishiro grimaced for a split second before stretching his mouth into a grin. "I brought you your apple, so eat up!" He wedged himself into the chair and pulled Subaru onto his lap, expecting a stammer or at least a blush for his effort. Subaru just bowed his head and picked up an apple slice.

Well, that wasn't any fun at all.

The next few days passed in a similarly uninteresting fashion, Seishiro making steadily more outrageous requests of Subaru and Subaru fulfilling all of them without complaint or even a flicker of emotion. It seemed to get worse, not better, as time passed. On the sixth day, Seishiro brought a tray of pasta into the study, which seemed to be the only room in the apartment besides the kitchen and the bedroom with the adjoining bathroom. (Had he thought about it, he would have wondered why there seemed to be a decisive lack of the features usually associated with modern human residencies, like a dishwasher, or air conditioning vents. Or, for that matter, plumbing. He _had_ noticed the lack of a front door a few days ago, but it appeared the next time he passed through the kitchen, in an alcove that he would have sworn had previously held a second refrigerator. Thankfully, he didn't try to step through it.)

Subaru took the food with a mechanical expression of thanks and began placing it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing and looking like a robot that someone had programmed to eat. Seishiro waited patiently until Subaru had finished everything on the plate, and then lifted him tray and all and started moving towards the door on the opposite side of the room. It was surprisingly easy—Subaru was far too thin, almost beyond the point where it was aesthetically pleasing. Almost. "You really do need to start eating more," he said cheerfully. "I think I'm going to have to start spoiling you. Just like—oh, what was that English saying? Something about pork…"

"A pig for slaughter," Subaru replied tonelessly.

Seishiro's grin dissolved into a frown for another instant, though Subaru couldn't see it from where he was cradled in Seishiro's arms. He didn't even twitch as Seishiro opened the door to Subaru's bedroom—though it was less the room and more the bed that was on Seishiro's mind at that point. He was getting bored with this.

He dropped Subaru onto the mattress unceremoniously and then loomed over him, carelessly shoving the tray to one side. For a long moment, he didn't say anything; he just let his lips hover a few deliberate inches from Subaru's, mentally dissecting his reaction.

Or, as it were, his non-reaction. Subaru was still looking at him, as he always did, but it was with the blank, glassy-eyed stare of a mechanical doll that has been turned off and left to gather dust on a shelf.

Seishiro arched an eyebrow and dropped his head to kiss Subaru.

He was certain that knew what he was doing, and he was equally certain that Subaru had no idea. He waited for the hesitation, the shyness, just the instinctive recoil from being kissed when you weren't the one initiating.

It didn't materialize. _Nothing_ materialized, including any sort of genuine participation on Subaru's part. He opened his mouth obediently when Seishiro's tongue ran across it, but beyond that—nothing.

Seishiro pulled back and looked down at him. Subaru's eyes were closed, and he seemed to be waiting submissively for… instructions?

Hm. "Subaru-kun," Seishiro said coldly.

Subaru opened his eyes. "Yes, Seishiro-san?" he asked.

"I don't love you."

Subaru didn't react or say anything.

"This means nothing. I feel nothing for you."

Subaru still met his gaze with his own empty stare.

Seishiro paused for a second, then enunciated quietly, "_Touch_ me." The quality of his voice explained the sort of touch he meant.

Subaru nodded and reached up to start unbuttoning his shirt without protest. When that was done, his hands moved unhesitatingly down to Seishiro's pants.

Seishiro made his decision.

Even in the awkward position, he managed to pick up the knife from where it was half-covered by pasta and cut open Subaru's throat before the boy had any idea what was happening.

He had just enough time to feel warm blood spurt through his fingers before the darkness took him again.


	3. Chapter 3

Seishiro felt the darkness embrace him again, but it was looser this time, almost preoccupied, and he could still hear a faint echo of the screaming through the cocoon.

There was another sound, too, one that was both louder and far more interesting. Seishiro listened to Subaru's voice, discovering that he could make out the words if he concentrated hard enough.

"I'm flattered," he was saying calmly, "but I don't think I'll be able to accept. I—"

His voice was cut off abruptly, and the darkness around Seishiro went motionless and tense, as if in reaction.

"No," Subaru's voice said after the pause, still determinedly polite. "I simply don't think I'll be able to make it. I'm afraid I have a previous arrangement that day. Perhaps you could discover a way to do without my… assistance in this matter?"

Another pause.

"An old friend."

There was a brief silence before Seishiro felt a quiet choking sound reverberate through the stillness, and then Subaru said, voice breaking but still formally detached, _"_Thank you for your concern, but—_no."_

The gathering tension around Seishiro abruptly exploded, and his blanket of darkness was stripped away in a sudden glorious white-hot blaze of light and sound and _pain,_ colors pinwheeling and bursting like a rainbow of fireworks behind his suddenly physical eyelids. Seishiro felt the vast semi-sentience of the darkness that had surrounded him splinter into a mob of individual presences, their screams growing to shrieks of unbearable volume, and a flurry of things small and sharp started to lacerate his upper chest. He almost winced; the hurt seemed to defy every technique he had ever learned to mitigate pain or to work through it. There was no way to draw a bead on it—it was quick and unpredictable, and often he didn't even realize that he had been cut until the wound began to sting.

He began to get a faint inkling of where the screaming came from. With this, even he, too, would break eventually.

He didn't like the thought.

Slowly, he felt the urgent heat fade and the darkness return, washing over him almost in an afterthought, sandpaper-rough as it flowed over his torn skin. The screeches faded and merged again, and Subaru's voice didn't return—something that Seishiro felt rather cheated about. It was much harder to ignore the question of where he was when he didn't have his—_prey's_—voice to distract him.

"Subaru-kun?" he asked experimentally—or tried to ask. He could feel his mouth moving, but he couldn't hear anything. The darkness surged around him, unchanging and eternal. He waited a few more minutes, and then got bored. Cautiously, he slid his foot out in front of him, half-expecting it to vanish or for the surface beneath his feet to end. When it didn't, he took another step, and then another. There was some resistance, but it felt a little like what he imagined walking through syrup would feel like—that is, if syrup chafed at your skin and sent almost-shivers down your spine just from touching it (because the Sakurazukamori didn't shiver, even if they were technically retired).

Seishiro's hand, stretched in front of him as he walked, encountered something smooth and polished. He squinted, a useless effort that he quickly abandoned. He slid his hand up what felt like a column of cold stone, exploring it with his fingers. There were almost unnoticeable lumps and crevices in the weathered surface, and it seemed to taper slightly as it got taller. At about the same level as his chin, there was a large patch of lumpy rock that protruded from the column. Seishiro's brow furrowed, and he splayed both of his palms over the projection. It had the same contours as a human face, with delicate, feminine features that felt almost familiar under his fingers. He traced his thumb over what might have once been a nose, before it was blunted and reshaped by the wind and blades that were still cutting at him, and _thought._

Recognition hit him all at once, and for the first time, Seishiro learned what it was to be shocked. "Mother," he said, his lips instinctively forming the word before his brain could quite catch up. He couldn't hear his own voice, but he knew he was right. His hands began to move a bit quicker over the surface, more gently this time, and he squinted again.

Then, of course, he caught himself and drew away. So… someone had been carving statues of past assassins? Past magic users? People from his life? His victims?

His hands returned to the statue again of their own will. But somehow, it wasn't a statue, quite. It felt almost alive, for all that it had none of the qualities associated with being alive, such as warmth or motion or, for that matter, breathing.

_Son,_ a distant voice whispered over his mind. It sounded a little like his mother, from what he remembered of her.

He looked up before realizing how pointless a gesture it was. His hands increased their pressure on Setsuka's face, just barely.

Apparently the spirit—ghost?—didn't notice. More thoughts came, pouring over his mind in a stream that quickly became a jumbled waterfall of disjointed images and sensations that ran together until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began. _ I hate to see you here but I've missed you so my son/little child/baby/love what would I do without Sei-chan/you/love/affection/tenderness/regret/blood—_

Seishiro wondered if he was hallucinating. Could one have hallucinations with hallucinations? "Mother?"

The tidal wave of thoughts didn't stop, and his mind began to be smothered by them. _Son love want death pain fear break end smile ice…_

Seishiro wrenched away. He stood still for a moment, almost relishing the quick sharp pain that was still stabbing him because that at least was something that he _knew._ Setsuka, when she was alive, hand never been like that. She had loved him, yes, but she hadn't _needed_ him, not the way she had felt in his brain.

He turned blindly to find somewhere else to be—anywhere, it didn't matter, just not here—and then there was a note of surprise and irritation in the darkness and something grabbed him from behind the navel and he was flying through nothing again.

He refused to believe that he was glad for it.


	4. Chapter 4

Seishiro was slightly more prepared this time, and he managed to catch himself and land on his feet with only a bit of a stagger.

Slender hands wrapped around his bicep, steadying him as he landed. "Careful," Subaru admonished gently. "You'll break something."

Seishiro blinked, staring at Subaru's hands on his arm and resisting the urge to pinch himself. Subaru felt warm and solid, which would have been reassuring if it didn't just mean that his hallucinations were getting more realistic. Besides, the real Subaru's touch had been cold, even when he was young — circulation issues, maybe.

Temperature aside, this was a very good delusion, though. It looked almost exactly as Subaru had when he was sixteen and the Bet was ended; everything was detail-perfect, except for the clothes. The clothes were dark, earthy tones and made out of some strange material that seemed to hang perfectly straight whenever Subaru stopped moving. As Seishiro looked at it, wrinkles began to appear at the crook of Subaru's arm and where the fabric bunched over his shoulder.

A self-correcting hallucination? How odd.

Subaru looked puzzled, and then followed Seishiro's gaze to his grip on Seishiro's arm. "Oh!" he said, quickly letting go and blushing a deep red. "I'm sorry, Seishiro-san, I didn't mean — "

"Subaru-kun, it's fine, it's fine," Seishiro reassured him, feeling perversely satisfied at the sight of Subaru's blush. If he was going to have delusions, they might as well get the amusing parts right. "There's nothing to apologize for."

"Oh," Subaru said again, looking embarrassed. "I just thought something might have happened on your — you were late getting back, so — I didn't know."

Seishiro's eyebrow began inching up. "I'm late?" he asked.

"Not by much," Subaru said hurriedly. "Barely at all, really, and of course you didn't actually _say_ when you would be getting back and told me not to wait up and everything. It's just you're usually home by twelve after your — well, it doesn't matter. It was presumptuous of me to worry." A microexpression of pain flicked over Subaru's face, so quickly that Seishiro missed it. "You're okay?"

Seishiro looked at him, and then tried an unfamiliar tactic: telling the truth. "I don't know. Where are we? I can't remember any of this."

Well, almost the truth, anyways.

Subaru's eyes went wide, then skeptical. "You have amnesia? Seishiro-san… that's not funny."

"I'm not joking."

Subaru shook his head in fond exasperation — or what Seishiro took to be fond exasperation. Seishiro had never really grasped the more delicate shadings of human emotion. It hadn't seemed worth the time or effort, and there hadn't been a lot of amusement potential. "This is a new game, even for you. Okay…"

He sighed. "I'll play along. How much do you remember, Seishiro-san?"

Seishiro smiled, the cold edge to it safely hidden behind transient entertainment. This was much more fun than wandering around in the dark. But how much of his memories should he tell Subaru-kun? "Hmm… you were sixteen, and we met for the first time. No, it was the second time, wasn't it? But beyond that… there were flowers, I think. Sakura blossoms, beautifully colored ones… And I spent a — " _hmm, what to say?_ " — a year with you after the second meeting, and that was… enjoyable. After that, though, I can't remember." He looked at Subaru, wide-eyed and innocent. "What happened next?"

Subaru flinched. "I don't think I like this game very much," he said quietly, looking down.

Seishiro's grin widened, something predatory coming out from the shadows — just a bit, but still enough to see if you knew what to look for. Did Subaru know what to look for, this time? "There was a bet, too, I believe, right? Come on, Subaru-kun, am I right, am I right?"

Subaru smiled painfully in response. "You must have had fun on this job. I… yes, of course you're right. Aaaaahh… the bet was for a year. The terms were that — You would live with me, and you would… try to love me. Or feel for me. You said. If you felt nothing for me at the end, you would kill me. I… never quite discovered what would happen if you _did_ fall in love with me, but it was a moot point anyways. I was meant to lose.

"In the end… you decided it was a tie, of sorts. I hadn't made you _feel,_ exactly, but I had — entertained you enough that you didn't want to kill me, I think was how you put it," Subaru continued, staring fixedly at nothing, his smile stretching into a death's-head rictus. "And so you didn't. I… loved you and was — am — stupid, stupid, _stupid,_ so I stayed with you. You're the Sakurazukamori, by the way. Assassin — did you forget that, too? And then, when Hokuto-chan started saying that you weren't making me happy, that I should leave, somehow, you drove her away. I don't know how. I think maybe I thought that if I pretended not to know that you had made her leave, that it would be like it didn't happen, or she had left because she honestly wanted to become an international fashion designer in Paris. Or something. And… so here we are." He laughed, and the almost careless despair of it made Seishiro want to smile again. Anyone else would have sounded acerbic, bitter, hateful… but this was Subaru-kun, after all.

Subaru-kun was too kind. Far, far too kind.

"Mmm, I think I might remember something about that," Seishiro said, mockingly reflective. "So, we live together?" He reached out and caught Subaru's arm. "Tell me, Subaru-kun — anything more I should know about?"

Subaru flinched, cheap imitation of a smile dropping, and tried to pull away. "Not now, Seishiro-san, don't joke now. Not after… what's _wrong_ with you today? Stop that!"

Seishiro chuckled, but released him. "Good. This is more fun, isn't it, Subaru-kun?"

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." Seishiro noticed that Subaru seemed to have made a quick recovery from the emotions triggered by his little "game," and was walking back into a — bedroom, apparently.

Hmm, two beds. He would have to do something about that.

"Where are you going, Subaru-kun?"

Subaru shot him a puzzled glance over his shoulder. "To sleep? Is… there a problem?"

The boy was cute when he was confused. "Not at all," Seishiro said, "but why aren't you waiting for me?"

The joke didn't register. "Um… did you want something to eat? I think there's leftover onigiri in the kitchen from lunch…"

Seishiro grinned; it was the kind of grin that had more to do with exposing teeth than it did with happiness.

Subaru processed the question another minute, and then turned bright red. "_Seishiro-san!_"

The door slammed shut, and Seishiro permitted himself a chuckle. Yes, this was definitely more fun.


End file.
